


god only knows

by worldsworstclown



Category: Little House on the Prairie (TV)
Genre: Fall themes, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of blood (no gore), Werewolves (mentioned), albert’s basically the mom friend, im in love with charles ingalls and that has no affect on the plot i just want you know that, inspired heavily by my local forest, reference to homophobia, “Sylvia” never happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worldsworstclown/pseuds/worldsworstclown
Summary: “when he sees albert, he can’t help how he blushes or how his lips twitch into a smile.”willie’s favorite place is the woods, but he also hates it.
Relationships: Albert Quinn Ingalls/Willie Oleson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	god only knows

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of an au, but not really. in short i made a slideshow presentation on how seasons 1-8 and season 9-the tv movies cant exist all in the same universe because of a huge plothole. so this fic is an alternate season 9 that can either be a modern au, since there’s no time references, or just whatever time period you want. its a free for all. 
> 
> this was inspired by some songs: god only knows by the beach boys, september song by frank sinatra, tragedy by the beegees, i think i love you by the partridge family, and this is how i disappear by my chemical romance (for no real reason its just a really good song). 
> 
> also- this is my first fanfic! (besides a santa x michael bublè from last year but we’re not talking about that)

With the noisy crunching of crisp brown and orange and yellow leaves underneath his boots, Willie would have been mad- he doesn’t want anyone to know where he is- but he doesn’t have the energy to care.

There’s random cobblestone piles that are almost pillar-like. It's like somebody, sometime, decided to start building a house in the middle of this forest and stopped for whatever reason. Maybe it was too windy, or too hot or too cold. Maybe it wasn’t the weather but a person, an animal or something unknown and superhuman. Willie doesn’t know, and if he wasn’t used to seeing them by now he’d be terrified to walk this deep into the forest alone.

Especially since it's the middle of autumn, and the trees with their ever changing and ever colorful browns and reds and greens, and oranges and yellows, shade enough of the forest pathway from the sun’s rays.  
Even with the sun out; it’s chilly. His nose and cheeks are probably bright red because he’s been out longer than usual, and probably longer than his mother would like, but he has a lot on his mind and he needs to get it out somehow.  
A journal wouldn’t work: Nancy would read it in seconds (his mother too); and he can’t tell anyone, so the forest is his best bet. 

He can say anything to absolutely no one and it’s great. Sometimes he hears random cracks of twigs and crunches of leaves that aren’t his own, and he would be concerned that someone- or something, bears exist- has seen him, but it never goes as far as confrontation so he doesn’t mind.

When it’s not sunny out- it rains. It’ll be cloudy early in the morning, then all throughout the hours until early in the afternoon. He'll sit in class with his hand holding up his head since he’s bored out of his mind, and he’ll hear the small patter of raindrops hitting the glass window next to him. Ms. Plum will probably mention it; like “stay dry when you walk home” or “the plants needed that!” but Willie never cares enough to pay attention exactly. Especially because when it rains everyone in town is busy running around, in case the storm gets worse, tying up their animals and making sure the fences are secure enough. With them distracted and occupied, Willie is able to walk into the forest without any questions.

The dirt path that’s been worn down quite a bit- by who, Willie doesn’t know, but he _wants_ to- will have some puddles and a couple of mud holes with random pebbles and broken twigs that fell from the trees above. But those will never tell on Willie's secrets so he respects them (as much as you can respect mud puddles, that is).

If it does get even cloudier out, with harsh dark grays that intimidate the smaller fluffy ones that were once sparsely placed in the sky, Willie still won’t care. When he knows it’ll storm hard he’ll bring a lantern he got as a gift once. There’s probably better ways of bringing light to a dark and stormy forest in the middle of the afternoon, but it makes him feel special for an odd reason he can’t place, but he does it anyway. Maybe it’s because he feels like the watcher of the forest somehow, wearing a long and flowing cloak that swishes behind him. It’s his special spot that nobody else- at least he thinks nobody else- knows about.

As his mind gets cleaner his clothes get dirtier. His brown boots will get covered in mud and leaves, that were once crisp and dry, will wetly stick to the bottoms and sides of them. Sometimes, somehow, he’ll trip. Maybe because of the tiny gray and brown speckled pebbles that he saw earlier. With a grunt and a thud he drops the lantern; but it never breaks. When he gets up his shirt and pants will have gotten a little bit of mud on them too, and he’s probably got some on his face as well. His elbows, knees and ribs take most of the impact and he doesn’t even know how that happened, but the soreness is temporary because he’s focused on getting his thoughts out. If in his next visit he includes how much his body hurts, then it will. And that’s all there is to it.

His mother will yell at him and tsk for it, but she never questions enough how they managed to get so dirty in the first place.

There’s a few random chains thrown about and around outside of the house. It was probably an expensive fence, or maybe a quick way to hold horses down. But they’ll rattle sometimes, and that’s what terrifies Willie the most. It's like the comical sounds skeletons make when they shake and stir; as if Willie’s dead ancestors heard him talking to the house and want him to join them for what he’s admitted. It’s especially scary with the howling of the cold wind that dries out the trees and leaves and pebbles that were wet from yesterday’s rain. Sometimes he thinks he hears wails, like the sounds he’d end up making if the dead dragged them along with them. But it’s most likely just his imagination. Willie thought since he’s older his mind wouldn’t stray as far as it once did, but he thinks it goes even farther now. Especially since he knows more about, everything, really.

And, if Willie told anyone- like his mother or maybe Mrs. Foster- they’d tell him he’s just a wild boy and laugh. They’d say that the dead aren’t skeletons covered in dirt, like he always is, but angels with clean crowns and God. If he told Albert, he’d probably giggle behind his hand and tell Willie that he’s crazy, and that skeletons _can’t_ be scary since everyone has one, and they’re inside- rarely out and about.

“Well, is everyone scary to you, Willie?” Albert will ask through his giggling, and Willie will just huff as he shakes his head. He'll grumble out a quiet “‘course not.” and that’ll be the end of it.

But Willie wishes there was more. More Albert. That’s what he’ll talk about the most to the house. Willie thinks about Albert the most. Out of all his streams of consciousness, out of all his dreams and fantasies that he keeps well hidden behind his eyes: Albert’s almost always the center.

  
—

He doesn't remember the exact time he stumbled upon the house in the middle of the dense woods, but it was probably around early September since he does remember the leaves weren’t as crisp and the wind wasn’t as cool.

-

Thinking back on it, Willie remembers. It _was_ September. School started up again and he was bored, as usual. Whenever Willie's bored he finds that he knows he is, but he’s too lost or deep in his thoughts that are scattered through his mind to be able to leave it and go play baseball with a classmate or whatnot. After school, he walked back over to the mercantile, put his school books down on his wooden desk and immediately left. He didn’t have a set destination. He'd love to go over to the Ingalls’ and see Albert. He wanted to ask him all the questions that have been stuck in his mind ever since he learned that some things you can’t just say, but he doesn’t want to be a bother.

He just ended up in the woods to lose himself, he guessed.

When he found the house, he was a little scared of it. Maybe it was the breeze that caused the hairs on his neck to stand, but just the idea of a house sitting perfectly on a circle dirt path in the middle of a dense forest terrified him. He didn’t know whose it is, or why it’s surprisingly large, or why there are random metal chains that certainly cost more than the house materials themselves.

He still neared closer, though.

The wind picked up a bit, his jacket was almost flying at its edges and a couple of leaves started to float down around him and twirl as they hit the forest floor. He'd be amused- he’s like a real magician now- but he kept inching closer to the house.

It had darkened wood, Willie assumed it was because of the rain the day before, but he wasn’t exactly sure. The chains were attached to cobblestone pillars- that seemed surprisingly sturdy- but not all of the chains were. At least some of them; there were two chains linked onto the left side of the house, but each was broken in the middle. He couldn’t find the other halves.  
It wasn’t the size of his parents’ shop, definitely not, but he guessed it was smaller than the Ingalls’. The difference being that this house was more vertical, with the door facing towards the opening of the forest clearing. Like a church. The forest clearing it was in was a circle, and it wasn’t perfect, but Willie assumed it had to be the person who built this house who took down all the trees.

Willie ended up slowly opening the door. He tried peering through the windows, well the front ones at least (he was too afraid to see what’s behind the house). Maybe a grave. Maybe multiple, with a freshly dug one with the dark soil piled right next to it for an easy burial. And he certainly wasn’t going near those pillars and chains, what if they wrapped around him and he never escaped? He’d be stuck with the house forever, screams lost to the heavy leaves of all the colorful trees surrounding him. It’d be like their basement all over again- this time with no chance that somebody would find him.

He still opened the door, even with those thoughts looming over him.

It creaked, loudly, and Willie winced. He wasn’t sure how to go about politely opening the door to a house that isn’t his, especially without it creaking- so he slammed it open. With the force the house shook. He winced again, and could hear crows caw as they distanced themselves and flew away, escaping whatever Willie just unlocked. He was glad nobody was hiding behind the door at least.

The house was empty with high ceilings. It felt unfinished, like it was built and then fled. It couldn’t have been a fire, the whole forest would’ve been gone then- possibly- but there did seem to be soot marks on the floor to his right. Maybe there was a fire, there’s an empty fireplace afterall, but then shouldn’t the whole house be burnt? The two support beams have, what seems to be ivy or vines, growing down from them, and Willie wasn’t sure how. Maybe it’s just a plant Willie doesn’t know the name of, because there’s a few leaves growing on them. There’s only one hole in the ceiling and it’s not over either of the two, it’s almost in the middle, but not quite. It casts some light into the shadows and Willie could see the dust particles floating in its stream. He was grateful for whatever happened to the roof: he needed the comfort.

The floorboards that are lighter than the siding almost seem empty too. As he walked around he could hear his footsteps, loudly. It was probably because of the unfurnished room: there’s only one in the whole house, maybe there was supposed to be more; but he felt airy when he stepped on the boards. He could hear a slight creak in them too, something was definitely missing underneath them.

There was a pile of bricks in a corner of the house: some only a tiny bit broken, others crushed. Willie hoped those were supposed to be used for the fireplace.

Willie didn’t know what else to do, so he sat down in the stream of light- disturbing the particles that never seemed to rest before- and started to talk to himself. It was more so directed at the house, and anybody or anything that lurked around in the dark shadows around him and the even darker shadows of the forest.

It felt good; to just say anything and not worry about who heard or if he said too much.

And there he sat, with the sunlight moving ever so slowly to the right. Willie knew deep down he should’ve been leaving by then, he was deep enough in the forest that it took him around twenty-five minutes to just get there, and if he didn’t leave he’d be walking home in the dark.  
Willie started to wonder to himself. Wasn’t it the afternoon when he got there? He wasn’t even sure how long he spent there anymore. Maybe it was days instead of hours- he had no clue.

But he still had more to talk about. All he did was: complain; then introduce himself to the house; have a coughing fit because of the dust; see a spider and try to befriend it; accidentally crush the spider; have another coughing fit; apologize; and then complain some more. He wasn’t able to talk about all he wanted to talk about, all he wanted to think about: Albert.

No matter how many times he wanted to venture out, change his crush because it had been longer than three years and Willie didn’t think crushes lasted that long and he was dangerously close to being in love, everything came back to him.

It was even closer to sunset. He had to leave. As he got up, his knees felt emptier than the house. Willie guessed he was sitting far too long without barely moving his legs but it was like he was glued to the floor. He walked back over the door threshold and felt different. He didn’t know why. He turned around and yelled goodbye to the empty house and slammed the door once more.

The forest was darker now. He was sure his mind would control what he _thought_ he should see, but not what he wanted to see, then. Shadows darted from bushes from the sides of his eyes as he walked back home. Willie started walking faster, and then ran when he thought he heard a howl.

The sky was a darker blue and the sun set even lower as the moon rose higher.

Willie loved the moonlight: he thought his hair looked great in it. But if there was a wolf near him, with the moonlight, then surely there’d be werewolves right? Willie wondered if he could be the werewolf. It wouldn’t have made any sense; he doesn’t like cows that much (do werewolves even like cows, he wondered) but his thoughts were more jumbled than usual because of his fear.

He thought he could hear the faint ringing of a church bell in the distance. He assumed it was his paranoia, but maybe it was something more.

His house was still far away, the whole town was. He wasn’t going to make it before full sunset, he was sure of it, even if he ran.

Yet, he still sprinted his entire way home.

He slammed open the living room door and shut it immediately, sliding himself down it as he panted for air. Mr. Oleson heard the noise and immediately ran over to Willie to yell at him and scold him (Willie knew for a fact that was what he wanted to do) but he stopped when he saw the state his son was in.

Harriet stormed downstairs and started to yell at Nels, not before she gasped and cried “oh- our poor Willie!”, assuming Nels’ yelling was the cause.

Willie was too exhausted to listen to any complaints they had. In his mind, him complaining to nobody is fine, but once somebody started complaining about him to his face, then there was a problem. Not that he judged them for complaining, he just didn’t like dealing with it.

He pushed himself up, drank three glasses of water, grumbled about how he was going to go do his homework and went up to his room.

Nels and Harriet didn’t follow for once.

Willie refused to talk about it in the morning.  
“It's a new day, I’m a new person, I’m fine.”

-

After that day, he stayed only on the edge of the forest for a while, around a week and a half (maybe two) staring into it and wondering if the house did change him.

Then, after that thought and long consideration (two minutes worth), he didn’t think he changed all that much and decided to go back- this time for a much shorter period of time.

“I’ll go home when I’m hungry. Besides, I don’t have any snacks on me as is, it’s a perfect plan!”  
He was only halfway to the house when that happened so he decided when he got really hungry was when he’d leave.  
It was around an hour before supper time when that happened, and Willie was proud of himself for having such good timing. He managed to convince himself during his time a little bit, only mentally though, that his crush on Albert was something deeper. He realized that when he saw Albert, he couldn't help how he blushes or how his lips twitched into a smile.

The walk home was much less terrorizing than before, too.  
He still wondered if he could be a werewolf though.

And after that, the visits to the house became around once a week.

He finally went behind the house and, instead of graves, he found more broken bricks.  
“Maybe those _are_ the graves,” Willie thought, “that’d explain why I feel haunted.”

-

Albert saw Willie go into the forest more and more. It shouldn’t have bothered him. Albert knew he also wasn’t able to spend as much time together as he (and Willie) would’ve liked to, at school and after it. It’s both their faults and Albert was the first to admit it.

Willie didn’t even want to admit that they’ve been drifting apart. He knew that’s a part of life- moving on- but he wouldn’t bother thinking of that any farther than he already has, since he walked straight into a low tree branch.  
The stump left on the branch from a broken twig cut open into a tiny part of his forehead and the topmost part of his nose.  
He could feel a throbbing pain, but there was only a little bit of blood so he shouldn’t have been dramatic, but he was anyway, because he wanted to.

All he yelled was ‘ow’ but he did so quite loudly, since the crows flew away _again_. He cursed under his breath. It’s not like anybody could hear him, so it’s not close to being a sin (as if he cared about sins, he hasn’t since he was 10).

Willie’s glad it wasn’t raining heavily like it usually was that time of year, and he’s certainly glad it wasn’t snowing. Although he thought it might be too early for it to be- he’s not an almanac, how should he know?- but it didn’t matter. He was only a quarter of the way there to the house, so he assumed, with as much smart thinking he had- which wasn’t much (Willie will admit, he’s quite irrational), that it’d be better to head back before he went any deeper.

And so he did, thoughts swirling, filled with Albert and pie, and he walked back into the tree branch, again.  
That time he fell down, and hit his lower back hard against a rock that he didn’t even see the first time; with some leaves from the branch falling down onto him.

He huffed, crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows.  
“I don’t remember being this clumsy before,” he mumbled to himself (and maybe the bird above that was probably laughing at him), and blew the hair that fell into his eyes away, along with two orange leaves that were on top of his head.

His back hurt afterwards, not enough for him to worry about, but he worried anyway. He had a small bruise forming- Willie wasn’t sure where but it existed- so he decided that he should definitely go to Dr. Baker, just to be safe.

Willie walked back to town with specs of blood dried on his face- which Willie was afraid made him look ugly, he can’t look ugly, he’s not vain, just afraid- and some smeared onto his cheeks from when he thought he smacked a bug but just ended up being himself.  
He thought everyone would’ve gone home by now: Ms. Plum gave enough work that even Mrs. Wilder (out of all people!) would’ve felt guilty about doing, but Albert was standing outside near the Oleson’s shop, his back leaning against the white wooden beam and his eyes scanning all over filled with worry and concern. Not that Willie could stare into Albert’s brown eyes and discern his feelings like he loved doing all the time: he was too far away, but just from looking at him he knew he was concerned. He knew a lot about Albert- too much, maybe, but he wanted to know more and he was too far to stop, so he decided he’ll just keep going.

Willie was frozen at the edge of the forest like a poor deer- or maybe a wolf, a werewolf, or whatever- with leaves still falling on his head from the wind that picked up. Albert, so worried that he was chewing on one of his fingernails, looked over and smiled brightly when he saw Willie.  
Willie still hadn’t moved but he was too focused on Albert running towards him, still smiling, with his black- or maybe it’s a very dark brown- curly hair, with some loose fringe flopping up and down on either side.  
After knowing Albert for 8 years, Willie still never knew if Albert’s hair was black or brown. He was pretty sure- like 93%- that his hair was black, since it never seemed to lighten up in the sun. But that didn’t matter to Willie. He still adored Albert no matter his hair color.

Soon enough, Albert stood in front of him with one hand lightly gripping his shoulder and the other touching his face so softly that Willie's thoughts stopped suddenly.

“What’d you do to yourself?” Albert whispered as he moved Willie’s face to check for other injuries, and they were so close that Willie slightly felt his breath on the right side of his face.

Willie was sure he smelled like the forest and maybe sweet candy, but Albert just smelled perfect. He didn’t know exactly how to describe Albert besides perfectly pretty.

“I..,” Willie swallowed, “..I walked into a pointy tree.” He was staring into Albert’s eyes and scanning his face over and over as Albert made sure his cuts wouldn’t get infected.

Albert just assumed Willie was shaken up from his little accident. Willie was glad he (probably) didn’t know he was distracted and nervous because of how close they were. If Willie wanted to he could’ve easily reached out and grabbed Albert's sides and just been with him, maybe even kissed him, but he was afraid.

Willie sighed deeply as Albert held his chin and tilted his head up to make sure he didn’t have any more cuts on his neck and shoulders, but Albert took it as him being uncomfortable and stepped back a little bit.

“Are you alright, Willie? Your cuts just need some water and bandages…” Albert's voice and eyes trailed off and he slightly bit his lip; he was nervous. He inhaled and continued, “Am I worrying you?”

Wilie was really enjoying the closeness of Albert, so when he yelled “no!” with far too much excitement- worry, more like- they were both a little taken back.  
Willie lowered his voice while looking around to make sure nobody heard him and cleared his throat.  
“I mean- no, no, you’re fine- I’m fine.” Willie's eyes filled with love were focused on Albert's filled with worry, but he could see the worry start to lessen more and more.  
“You’re a really good friend, you know.”

Albert smiled at that and Willie's heart melted. Albert's smiles were always beautiful. Albert being happy was always beautiful.  
“You’re a good friend too. You want me to walk you over to Dr. Baker?”

Willie, still smiling and eyes still filled with love, nodded.

Maybe they’re not perfect, but they’re happy.

—

A few weeks later, Willie ended up bored in class again. He thought of bears, mostly. He fought with himself in his head over how big they were, and if they were relatively large, how did they always manage to sneak up on people? At least, that’s what he heard from the wandering traveler’s stories, who managed to breeze through and out Walnut Grove so quickly Willie even wondered if they were real. Maybe they stole chickens. He tried to steal a chicken once: in his seven year old mind it was borrowing because he wanted to annoy nellie, but he just ended up being pecked rather violently. Willie's face dropped from boredom to a mix of anger and confusion; why’d he ever think stealing a chicken was a good prank? They’re not even roosters, well they don’t annoy him as much, anyhow.

He was brought back to the boring classroom setting he was stuck in when Ms. Plum mentioned the word ‘infatuation’. Willie didn’t know the context, but he did know he heard the word before and really wanted to know what it meant. He never bothered to look it up in the dictionary before, because in his mind if he learned too many words he might become annoyingly-educated, like Laura. Well, he guessed it was her job to be educated, but he didn’t want to be a teacher. Maybe he should’ve known what it meant by his age, but it’s not like that word could have a huge impact on his life, at least he thought.

Willie suddenly raised his hand and, without being called on, quickly asked,  
“what’s that even mean?”

He felt Albert stare at him from the corner of his eye, not with annoyance but just with the odd curiosity that only Albert seemed to have, as Ms. Plum replied, “glad to see you’re awake and paying attention, Willie.” Albert quietly giggled at that, and he just rolled his eyes as she continued.

“It’s like having a really strong crush on somebody-“ one of their classmates scoffed at the idea of that and they made it known. Ms. Plum just shook her head and laughed, “-but it’s not love. Being in love is accepting the person for who they are. With crushes you usually think the person is what you want, but not what they are.”

Willie's eyes went wide at that: that’s how his mom acted to him. God, he hoped that’s an exception with adults, but he wasn’t entirely sure. He didn’t want to ask Ms. Plum incase he sounded stupid so he asked Albert instead.  
As he turned to his left to face Albert though, he was caught with staring back into Albert's eyes. Willie wished he read the dictionary more often, because then he’d know how to describe the way he always felt looking at albert. Especially with him looking back. His eyes were captivating in the best way possible. Albert's expressive: if he’s angry; sad; uncomfortable; or happy (Willie’s favorite), anyone who looks at his eyes could tell. But Willie wanted a nicer word to describe Albert. And it's not just his eyes either- it’s just Albert himself. His whole existence was enchanting, even when he’d mess up (which he rarely did- that always impressed Willie).

Willie’s thoughts suddenly brought him to a realization that he has made in part but never admitted fully: he’s in love with albert. He thought it was just a crush, and then with the newfound word of ‘infatuation’ there was the possibility it could’ve been that, but it wasn’t. He knew Albert wasn’t perfect, because he did mess up at times. He'd get annoyed easily and lie enough to deserve a confession, but Willie assumed he was too enchanted by Albert to bother worrying about those things.

They were staring at each other for too long. Willie's mind moved fast so it wasn’t actually too long, but still could have been suspicious to anyone who looked. Hopefully, none of their classmates did (who are quite mean and ignorant).

Willie breathed out.  
“My mom doesn’t have a crush on me, right? She’s kind of, well, _extremely_ pushy.”

Albert threw his head back slightly and laughed loudly, which was rare for him. His laughs were usually quieter and more directed at whoever made the joke (which, almost always, was Willie). It was like quiet praise. Their classmates started to laugh as well, Albert's happiness was captivating. It wasn’t as dark out as it was the day before, or any of the days ahead. Albert was happy because of him and the sun shined through the glass windows behind him.

Albert replied, still smiling with his eyes crinkled, “of course not- at least, I hope so.”

Willie knew the answer, not just Albert's but the true one, was no, but he was still relieved. And slightly worried. How was he to tell Albert he loved him? Not as a friend but just far more than that? In that moment though, Willie was too pleased to care. He was happy, both of them were.

-

After school that day Willie stopped Albert by holding some of his books in one arm and grabbing Albert's with the other’s hand.  
Albert kindly waved off James, Cassandra, and Carrie as they approached him as Willie began to speak and the rest of the school left.

“I just wanted to thank you, you know, for reassuring me... that’s the right word, right?'' Albert nodded softly “-yeah, for reassuring me that my mom doesn’t really like me. I mean, she does, maybe, but not in a weird way.”

Albert smiled brightly at him.  
“You know what they always say Willie, ‘a man always needs a friend to offer wise advice for certain situations.’”

“Ah, I assume you’re the wise friend, then?”

“Oh, hardly.”

They were both smiling then, even after Willie's book slipped from his arms and into the dust that always surrounded Walnut Grove.

—

It’s a meaningless argument like always but it holds too much weight. Their friendship is sensitive. They’re both too high strung in different ways. Maybe they’d work better as a couple, Willie always thought. It’d be like Mr and Mrs. Ingalls: they both argue enough for normality. But Willie and Albert aren’t a couple. They can’t just apologize by saying they’d never want to hurt each others’ feelings and that they do love them. They could try, but judgement makes it never work. They can’t just hug and kiss it over.  
It usually dies down, Willie always feels awful after every time. Albert's usually the first to apologize since Willie isn’t good with feelings, but he still feels awful even after he returns Albert's apology.

He’ll tell the house that. He'll say how bad he feels. Even after their little apologies and acknowledgements that neither of them would’ve won that fight, Willie still doesn’t think they’re as good as they were. It’s probably his fault, having such strong romantic emotions instead of platonic for Albert.

Willie can’t even remember what they fought over. Maybe it was because he told Albert he wouldn’t survive a day in the Cretaceous period. but he’s busy worrying about their future. He wants to be with Albert.

Willie saw Albert walk into the post office two days after their fight from his bedroom window. He was sitting at his desk, furiously writing out his feelings. The page he wrote made no sense: it was all confusion and love, but it would have to do. He couldn’t live his entire life with his feelings bottled up, which was a rarity for him.  
He knew he could’ve walked over there and apologized- again- but he just couldn’t.

He ran into the restaurant and ignored his father’s surprised comments as he ran out of the house and through the shop. He didn't know what he should’ve said to Albert, but he knew it had to be something: he couldn’t ignore him anymore. He dialed the post office’s number. As he waited for it to ring he heard an unfamiliar voice answer. Apparently, he had the wrong number.  
He called again and Mrs. Foster answered.

Willie spoke fast, like he was out of breath.  
“Can I speak to Albert Mrs. Foster- please?”

He heard her regular happy tone reply with a bit of confusion.  
“Of course, Willie! What a coincidence- he just walked in here.”  
She shuffled a bit and Willie could tell she handed the phone over to Albert- because he heard Albert's voice ask, “Willie? Why are you calling me at the post office?”

Willie's voice was caught in his throat when he heard Albert reply. He never knew why it always was, but he sort of figured it out then: it was love.  
Willie thought it was a little cliché and far too simple of an explanation for an emotion that’s so deep, but it worked enough. He loved Albert and everything about him, like his voice. It was soft in real life and even softer on the phone.  
Not that Willie thought he talked quietly- he didn’t, Albert was averagely loud- but it was his tone. Albert was just so caring and sweet, and with it directed to Willie, and only Willie, he felt true love.

Willie wanted to reply quietly about how he loved the way Albert talked, but he didn’t.

“Willie? Are you alright? Is there anything you need from me?”

His voice was shaky as he replied.  
“I need- we need- to talk about... something but I uh-“

“Sorry to cut you off, but I think it’d be best if we talked in person. Your mom’s probably trying to listen to you, you know.”

Willie wasn’t sure if he was projecting, but Albert seemed as desperate to talk to him as he did. He almost prayed that it wasn’t just him, he wouldn’t be able to stand having unrequited love for the man he never stopped thinking about.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right uhm, can we do it? Now?”  
Willie was cursing under his breath; he probably sounded too desperate, like a sad person. He can’t have Albert knowing he’s like that.

“Of course, I’ll meet you outside the school. But you never answered me- are you alright? You seem nervous.” Albert said, sounding even more sweet and caring than he did earlier. Willie's heart was in his throat again.

“That’s... I’m fine. Thanks Albert.” He hung up and, as soon as he did, he slammed his head against the wall as lightly as he could so nobody would question him as he ran out of the restaurant- this time to his mother’s yelling.

Albert looked at Mrs. Foster with confusion as she shrugged and handed him the letter for Charles. Albert didn’t know what the letter was, and he wasn’t going to read it: he’s not Mrs. Oleson by a long shot; but he was glad he had the chance to talk with Willie. He knew they hadn’t been hanging out as much as they once did, but college was so close and he had to get that medical scholarship, but he still shouldn’t ignore Willie and his feelings for him. He thanked Mrs. Foster and left the post office- seeing Willie run as he stepped out onto the porch- and the cold wind picked up again.

-

There was a slight fog settled over the forest and the house. Willie's eyesight wasn’t as good as he wanted to admit, and with the hindering of the mist and clouds he couldn’t even see past halfway of the house.

There was silence for too long. There weren't even any birds cawing at them from up above in the oak and pine trees, there wasn’t even the sound of wind blowing through the leaves; even when there was the occasional gust. Which Willie found odd. Usually the forest was loud, but maybe he was just projecting.

Willie cleared his throat, and Albert looked away from the house and to him: thinking he’d finally talk about what he wanted to over the phone and not werewolves or apple pie.

“How can there be clouds down here- that’s what fog is right?” Albert nodded. “-How can they be down here when there’s clouds up there still.” He moved his right hand from his pocket and pointed up through the leaves at the gray cloudy sky.

Albert immediately looked confused and sighed. He assumed Willie was just trying to make conversation, but then again Willie was never the best at science.  
“Willie, do you think there’s only one cloud? In the entire sky?”

Willie’s voice was caught in his throat, as if another part of him was trying to prevent him from speaking. He needed to know.  
“If I do- will you still like me?”

Albert’s eyebrows quickly rose and fell even faster into a frown.  
“You know I could never hate you, we’re still friends.” Albert inhaled and his eyes wandered off, “unless, you don’t-“ he cut himself off and, with one hand on Willie's shoulder, pointed down towards the ground.

There were footprints, obviously human (or maybe a werewolf, before transforming- Willie could never be too sure), set well into the ground.  
The rain that turned the sporadic dirt patches that coursed around the overgrowing grass into mud ended a while ago, but the prints seem to be from even before the rain started.

Willie knew nobody lived in the house, he screamed enough to ward anyone away, but Albert didn’t.

“We should leave, Willie. Somebody probably lives here-“ Willie started walking forward and Albert grabbed his elbow, “-what if you get hurt?”

Willie looked back at Albert with a grimace and yanked his elbow away. He wasn’t sure why. He wished he didn’t though. Albert's eyes looked broken and shattered like the random bricks he’s seen thrown around or the chains that have been stuck in the forest for seemingly forever. Willie has seen Albert hurt before, but he’s rarely the cause of it, and it’s never been as bad as it was then. Something clicked in both of them right then: Willie was disgusted with himself and Albert was destroyed.

Outside the house near the cobblestone pillars were pumpkins with wet leaves stuck to them; like they were grown together and not forced by the wind or the rain. White and orange ones with themselves and their brown stems covered in little specks of soil. Willie could see them from the corner of his eye as he stared back at Albert, who was almost blinking away tears.  
As odd as it may be, Willie wished he and Albert were those pumpkins and leaves. They wouldn’t be affected by judgmental parents or neighbors who don’t care about what they want. Or the fear of being too close to one another incase somebody finds it odd. They could exist together the way they want and the way they just are. Alone and undisturbed.

Willie slowly put his arm back down and shoved his hand back into his pocket, crumpling up the note he made earlier. His face relaxed slightly, but he was still guilty and felt awful. He swallowed hard as he turned back to the house and opened the creaking door. The wind blew through his hair and his coat, turning his nose and cheeks redder than they have been. Willie was glad, though, because it’d be harder to tell if he was blushing or not.

Albert still stood farther behind him with his arms crossed; out of sadness and anger as well as coldness.

Willie wasn’t surprised that, when he slammed it open as he usually did, the house was the same as he last left it: dusty and a bit warm compared to the cool autumn weather, which was odd because of the hole in the ceiling, but he’d take what he could get. He stepped in with Albert following hesitantly.

-

As they both sat on the dusty wooden floor that Willie is still convinced is empty, he took a deep breath.

“Hey, Albert, uh.. sorry about earlier, I didn’t- I don’t want to hurt you... I like you- a lot.”

Albert tilted and turned his head to Willie and smiled.  
“I know you didn’t mean to be, well, mean, and I like you too.”

“I like you, more than I should.”

Albert started rubbing Willie's left hand to comfort him.  
“What do you mean by that?” he said quietly.

“Well you know what our parents feel- well, probably yours more than mine-“ Albert giggled at that, “-that’s how I feel... about you.”

Willie stayed facing forward, while Albert turned his body fully to face Willie. The wind picked up again and Albert shivered, nudging himself closer to Willie for warmth. Their shoulders overlapped and pressed into each other, which usually happens whenever they’re near each other, but they’ve never been in such a worried-romantic setting before. Willie was shaking, not from the cold but from his own fears. He didn’t want to be hated for something he couldn’t help, and admitting out loud how he felt could certainly result in that. The feeling of his heart racing just kept worrying him more. It was like the skeletons all over again except this was real and concrete. But maybe the skeletons were real, Willie thought to himself.

Albert stopped rubbing his hand and instead placed his down right next to Willie’s, which was now picking at the loose splintered beam of wood, their fingers overlapping.

“You mean love?” he saw Willie shaking slightly. “I don’t mind, there’s no need to worry.”  
He passed his bottom lip through his teeth.  
“Willie, please look at me. You know I can’t stand being ignored.”

Willie's lips twitched into a small smile at that, and, still slightly shaking, he turned his head to the left to face Albert. He stared down slightly into Albert's eyes like he’s always done before, this time with no secrets or hidden dreams. Well, not all of his dreams were achieved then, but his biggest one, the dream that he always thought of throughout his days and into his nights, was finally true.

Willie’s thought about how he’d tell Albert before many, many times.

Like just days ago after their fight, Willie imagined how it would’ve gone differently if he knew how to express himself the way he wanted- not the way actually he did.

—

  
Even then, in his dreams, he still didn’t remember what their fight was about. but he remembered they were both quite mad.  
When Albert's mad, he has his eyes squinted and he grumbles through his words a lot. Willie noticed that when they were 13, and he had been watching Albert since to see if it changed- it hadn’t.

Willie would’ve stormed out after Albert, watching his dark hair be blown by the slight wind.  
His trail of thoughts would’ve only begun halfway into their argument, but he imagined he was kind of overreacting.

“Because you’re my friend and I care about you!” When Willie was mad, he would demonstrate with his hands a lot. Not in a concerning way: he just liked to point.

“Well you never show it.” Albert would cross his arms and turn around on his heel to face Willie, both of them scowling.

Willie would reply, shouting, “I don't know how okay! Love is confusing!”

Albert will tilt his head slightly and his scowl would relax into a more confused look. “...Love?”

“Yes, Albert, love! I love you and if that’s a problem then sue me, alright?” Willie was never sure if he would even be able to say those words in real life.

But Albert's expression would soften even more, his arms and shoulders would loosen. “Alright... guess that means you can sue me back.”

As they always did, they would smile at each other.

—

  
Willie had trouble admitting to himself that that fantasy was longer. It didn’t have as much angst as he knew in his reality. And he certainly didn’t know how to admit to himself the fantasy could’ve very well became a reality- and it actually did, in a way. Even if it made little sense.

“Albert, I love you.”

Albert, with his ever-bright smile, huffed out a small laugh.  
“I love you too, Willie.”

Willie let himself grin at that, with no fake anger to hide his confusion and fear.

-

He’s felt the urge to kiss Albert before; many, many times. A while back Albert was helping Willie with their homework and he was sitting at Willie's desk; while Willie laid on his bed, face down, complaining. Nels called Willie down to help with bringing in supplies, and Willie sat up grumpily.

“Go help him, William,” Albert said, laughing at Willie's dramatic antics.

“We were just getting far, too! He’s always got the worst timing.”  
Albert laughed more at that.

He moved so he was sitting sideways and faced Willie, with his hands resting on the wooden chair. Willie slowly got up and never let his eyes move from Albert. The bright sunlight flashed behind him as gray clouds rolled past, and when the sun was there; Albert seemed to have a halo.

Willie wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly that right then he needed to kiss Albert, but his legs moved faster than his mind did. He stood behind his desk now; the sun in his eyes and Albert looking up at him, still smiling. He could’ve easily leaned down just a bit and, with his head tilted and a hand holding up Albert’s chin; he would’ve finally kissed albert. Willie imagined Albert wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him back, and he’d know how he enjoyed it by feeling his smile during it.

Instead: he smirked, reached down and ruffled Albert’s hair, which led to him laughing once again.

“Don’t get too far without me.” Willie said as he stared down into Albert's eyes, perhaps too lovingly.

“Of course not, dear.” Albert teased him back.  
Willie assumed he didn’t mean much by that, but it gave him hope; and it made his breathing stop for only just a bit.

-

With his thoughts brought back to the forest, he kissed Albert in a way that his dreams were too afraid to say: as deeply and as lovingly as he could manage. They were closer than before, not just in a metaphorical sense but literally- Albert moved closer so that one of his legs was resting on Willie’s and Willie pushed one of his shoulders into Albert's. Their hands were pressed against the floor and their fingers overlapped once more as Willie lifted Albert's chin up with his other hand and Albert sighed deeply.  
Willie never counted the minutes that passed but soon enough it was over. They were both smiling, but Albert was still shivering because of the cold. Willie's jacket wasn’t big enough for him to share: his mother made sure it was fitted to his body perfectly; so he lifted his hand from under Albert's and wrapped it around his waist as Albert chuckled and relaxed his shoulders back against Willie's, laying into his side.

For Willie, kissing Albert was almost like an ego boost. Maybe it was because he was always a small kid- or maybe he seemed small because everyone around him was just tall- and he got picked on for having to always look up to people. but now he has someone looking up to him. And they like him back? He’s never felt something similar to his experiences with Albert, but he loved every second of it. Even if Willie’s only the tiniest bit taller than Albert.

For Albert, kissing Willie was magical. He knew Willie well enough that he was happy he wasn’t short anymore- and he hasn’t been for 3 or 4 years now- but Albert didn’t mind. He didn’t mind that he had to tilt his head up to kiss willie back, as long as they both loved it and each other.

Willie leaned forward and to the side a bit and kissed Albert's cheek. Albert blushed as Willie slightly pulled away and, with his face still next to Albert’s, mumbled  
“God only knows what I’d be without you.”

They both laughed. Even when it started to get darker and the sun’s rays were less warm because of how many more clouds started to float past them, even when the wind started to knock the door slightly, they were both warm with the comfort of a lantern’s flame. They were comfortable and deep in love.

“So, about those werewolves we talked about earlier today-“

“Willie, please.”


End file.
